


Kiss the Sky (Kiss This Guy)

by Wireslide



Series: Camera Ready [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Analingus, Body Worship, In this AU there are no STIs, M/M, Mention of casual Keith/Lance, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Shiro's disorder has not been corrected and has consequences, references to fingernails scraping on unappealing texures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 12:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wireslide/pseuds/Wireslide
Summary: Shiro invites Lance and Hunk to dinner once they return from their anniversary trip. Lance enjoys a different meal than is initially offered.





	Kiss the Sky (Kiss This Guy)

**Author's Note:**

> This is another off-camera installment. The next one is back on-cam but giving me trouble.

"Wait, are we doing snacks? Was I supposed to bring snacks? Shiro, no one told me--"

"It's okay, Keith," Adam reassured, ruffling the younger man's hair, "Kashi made enough snacks for half the Garrison. And by 'made,' I mean he's been opening packages and arranging the contents in bowls and on serving trays all day."

"Very funny," Shiro said dryly, setting a bowl of caramel popcorn on the table and stashing the empty bag it had come in alongside at least a dozen equally empty bags and boxes under the sink. "I didn't know what they like to eat. I haven't had anyone over since--" He stopped, locking eyes with Adam for a moment.

Keith cleared his throat in the awkward silence. "Lance won't eat anything anyway," he shrugged when Shiro looked to him, "he's on a liquid diet."

"If he's doing those videos every day, he'd pretty much have to be," Adam noted thoughtfully.

Shiro snapped his fingers, pulling three containers of protein powder from a cupboard. "It's not the best selection," he noted, eyeing them critically, "but he'll have a little bit of a flavor option, at least."

Keith shook his head and snagged a cheese curl. "I'm not sure how I feel about you guys watching Lance's feed," he complained, licking orange powder from his fingers.

"Oh no," Adam sighed, slinging his across Keith's shoulders, "the kid can't handle his parents watching porn! How do we make him more comfortable with this, Kashi?"

Shiro squinted at them, then shrugged. "Guess we could remind him that we're only six years older than he is, and the most the preliminary adoption papers have ever done besides legally let him move in at seventeen is let us visit him in the hospital when he wrecks his bike."

"One time!" The younger man yelped. He half-shoved at Adam. "And you guys were on a rescue at the time. I was almost ready to be discharged when you got back. I know you watch porn, anyway; I just am a little weirded out by you watching porn of a guy I have sex with."

"Don't forget, he's also the husband of a coworker," Adam pointed out cheerfully, "a man who can pick us up, one in each arm, and yote us into a wood chipper with little effort."

"It's 'yeet,'" Shiro corrected automatically, squinting at the selection of liquids in the fridge, "'yote' is past tense."

"It's a two hundred year old meme, Takashi, no one cares." The blond sighed, shaking his head. "Remember not to take the meat and cheese tray out of the fridge until they arrive, so it doesn't get warm--Kashi." He released Keith to put a hand on the shorter man's arm. "Are you listening to me?"

"No, sorry." He put the tray back in the fridge and let the door swing closed. "I'm nervous."

Keith snorted, heading to the cupboard and moving cans around. "Lance is all right, Shiro, you don't have to be nervous. He's not going to stare at your band or ask stupid questions or anything."

Shiro gave him a faint smile. "I'm out of peaches."

"God damnit," the smaller brunette scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, leaving the cupboard open and slouching against the counter, "how? We just took you grocery shopping. I did not eat four cans of peaches in a day and a half."

"I tried to bake a cobbler," the sentence ended halfway through, silenced by the groans of the other two men. Shiro nodded slightly and shrugged. "Apparently being in space hasn't magically imbued me with the ability to cook."

Adam shot him a puzzled look. "I didn't smell smoke when I came in."

"I got everything in the dish okay, remembered to take the pans out of the oven before I started preheating, waited for the oven to tell me it was fully preheated, walked over to the oven holding the dish, and let go of it to open the oven door."

Both Keith and Adam were silent for a long moment. Over the twenty year old's growing giggles, Adam laid a sympathetic hand on Takashi's shoulder. "Forgot about gravity again?"

Looking defeated, Shiro nodded. "And I broke your favorite casserole dish. Sorry."

"It's just a thing," the blond shrugged, turning away as the doorbell sounded. "I'll get it." On his way through the living room, he had to bite his lips to make his grin look like something approaching a normal smile. He had it under control by the time he got the door open. "Hunk! And you must be Lance," he offered the smaller brunette his hand to shake, "I'm Adam, technically this is my basement." He let his eyes roam over the familiar face before he realized he'd been shaking Lance's hand a moment too long, and released it.

"Adam!" Shiro yelled from the kitchen. "I heard that!"

The blond felt his crooked grin returning as he moved aside to let the two men in. "I kid. Takashi owns the house, but he lets me stay upstairs so our son didn't have to move. I've heard you know Keith, Lance?"

The leggy brunette looked up from helping his husband pull off his jacket and smiled. Adam felt his heart hitch and spared a disgruntled thought for Shiro's waxing poetic over the blue-eyed man. "We both do, actually, and you and I have met before, Instructor Whitehorse. I used to be in your class." Lance waited a beat, then let his grin widen. "Don't feel bad. Shiro didn't recognize me, either, and I had him my first year. Keith didn't, and uh. We sort of dated for about six months before he ran away."

Completely thrown, Adam searched the other's face for something to clue him in as to the rest of Lance's identity. "I am...so sorry, I don't--"

"His maiden name is Atrillo," Hunk offered, straightening out his jacket and helping Lance out of his with a quick smile, "he claims he used to look like 'an egg with legs,' but I don't think he ever did." His smile softened when Lance turned around, and he bent slightly to give the Cuban a kiss.

"Rosy-viewed propaganda," the performer hummed quietly, smiling up into his husband's eyes.

Adam had never felt more like he was intruding on a private moment, but he smiled when the men easily let it fade by stepping back and turning their smiles on him. "If you let us do that, we won't stop." Hunk warned him, clapping him on the shoulder. "Ronnie says we're the most annoying couple she knows."

The blond nodded. "Right, you said Atrillo. She's in PR, right?"

"Much to her frustration, yeah," Lance laughed, twining his arm with Hunk's and lacing their fingers together, “Ronnie trained for fieldwork. Logistics and procurement.”

“But she's not working resupply?” Adam gestured that they precede him into the kitchen.

“Ronnie could charm the feathers off a swan,” Lance assured him over his shoulder, letting his husband guide him, “so when she talked Admiral Sanda down from one of her uh. You know. Fits? Command transferred her to PR. It was a compromise so they didn't put her directly on Sanda's staff. Everyone knew that would be a terrible idea.” His grin was bright enough for Adam to feel his heart speed up a little.

“It does explain why she always seems a little pissed off, all that teaching gone to waste. Procurement's an entire year's worth of extra lessons.” Focused on Lance's smile, Adam missed the dumbstruck look on Shiro's face, or the way the Japanese man's breathing hitched exposed to even the periphery of Lance's smile.

Keith straightened up from where he'd been casually leaning against the sink, eyes dropping to Shiro's wristband. “Shiro? Shiro are you okay?! Do you need to sit down, have you been hydrating today?” He grabbed the older man's elbow in alarm, and shot a hurt and offended look to Adam when the blond laughed. “Adam--”

“That's his 'gay panic' face, Keith, don't worry.” Adam squeezed past Lance and Hunk to snap his fingers in Shiro's face. “Hey! You're freaking the kid out.”

“Sorry! Sorry, Keith.” Shiro shook himself faintly and gave the smaller man a faint, reassuring smile. “I'm okay, I was just--” he laughed at himself, a little self-depricating, “totally stunned by how attractive Lance is, again.”

“He has that effect on a lot of people,” Hunk reassured with a fond smile at his husband, “it's a part of why I don't bring him to office holiday parties.”

“That and I swore to never step foot on Garrison property ever again after they expelled me,” the Cuban shrugged, releasing the full force of his grin on the whole room. Adam saw Keith give a tiny return smile out of the corner of his eye. Lance stepped forward, releasing Hunk's hand and peering at the table. “This is the most impressive spread of pre-prepared food I've ever seen. Which seat is mine?”

“Uh, whichever one you want,” Shiro gestured vaguely, “I usually eat in front of a tablet full of reports, in the living room. Sorry. Sorry about the food, I—I can't cook. I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to invite people over to dinner, in light of that.”

“Well, I sort of invited us,” Lance smiled up at Hunk as the bigger man pulled out a chair for him, “so don't feel too bad. This is good, though—is that a cheese platter? I love cheese!” He gestured that the others join him as he reached for the platter. “Sorry, I know I'm a terrible guest. I've just been _so hungry_ and tonight is the last night I get to eat real food.”

“In that case, I'm _really_ sorry I didn't pick up something better than this,” Shiro laughed, taking a seat beside Lance at one end of the table, “but I'll be perfectly honest; left unsupervised, I'll just sit around and eat instant ramen out of the package.”

Keith sat across from Lance, rolling his eyes as Adam sat beside him. “He doesn't even put the flavoring on it,” he informed the brown-haired man, “he has like, a little basket in the cupboard that's just ramen flavor packets.”

“That's...really gross,” Lance scrunched up his nose as he laid cheese on the edge of his plate. He passed the platter to Hunk and reached for the meat. “I get that you can't cook, Shiro, but there's better things to eat, even in the instant-food market.”

“I consider microwave time to be prep time, and I'm not fond of it.” Shiro gave him a quick flash of a smile. “I figure, if I'm going to eat gross food, it needs to take no time at all. I'm glad, though, that you can eat solid food right now. My flavor options for protein powder are mostly 'vanilla.'”

Blue eyes followed the motion of the hand forking pre-sliced meat onto Lance's plate with dedicated interest. “I have missed solid food so much,” he sighed contentedly, “it's been really hard not to complain about it in the feed every day. Hunk's like, _the most amazing_ cook, so honestly I've definitely been feeling like I've given up a lot for this series?” He passed the meat on and reached for the bowl of cheese puffs. “But it's eight hundred per vid, plus whatever I make in tips or on whichever extra request I squeeze in.”

Keith choked on his soda, and Adam patted him gently on the back until he breathed in without coughing. “I'm sorry, eight hundred? Like, eight hundred GC?”

“Yeah, man, eight hundred global credits,” Lance beamed up at him, carefully wiping his fingers on his napkin, “per vid, plus tips and requests. Most requests pay anywhere between three to five hundred.”

“I'm constantly telling everyone at the Garrison that Lance is the real breadwinner in the household,” Hunk beamed, looking around for something. He gave Adam a faint smile when the blond reached across the table to pat his wrist.

“I'll go grab a bagged salad from my fridge upstairs,” the Hopi man suggested, getting to his feet.

“I'm sorry, I just—all this heavy food's really gonna upset Lance's stomach if he doesn't have at least some form of vegetable,” Hunk offered Keith the platter of meat, but a sharp clearing of Shiro's throat prevented the violet-eyed young man from sweeping the entirety of the platter onto his plate. Instead, he added some to Adam's first, then took the rest. Hunk couldn't prevent a little grin at the shifty glance towards Shiro for his approval that Keith shot the older man.

“My baby always looks out for me,” Lance hummed, beaming. He kept his eyes on Shiro as he popped a bite of rolled meat and cheese in his mouth. As he chewed, his fingertips lingered on his lips, and his foot slid up the inside of Shiro's calf.

Having heard Lance's shoe hit the floor, Keith looked between the two quickly, then shot a questioning glance at Hunk, who shrugged and offered a smile that said he was long used to his husband's antics. He touched Lance's arm lightly and passed him the milk.

Laughing, Lance poured himself a glass of milk and washed down the food with it. When he set the glass down, he had a small crescent of the liquid clinging to his upper lip. “See? I totally would have tried to eat a whole plate of food without a drink.”

Shiro's eyes dropped to the milk mustache, and he wet his lips. He snapped his gaze back up when Lance stuck his tongue out to lick the milk away, and cleared his throat, looking down to cover his embarassment. He barely glanced up when Adam came back down carrying a large wooden bowl and a packet of dressing. “I wasn't sure if everyone likes caesar,” the blond announced, “so I figured I'd offer it on the side, and—what did I miss?”

“Just Lance and Shiro eye-fucking,” Keith said sourly. He jumped when Hunk kicked him under the table, then pouted down at his plate.

“Oh damn, and here that was going to prove to be the main entertainment for the evening.” Adam handed Hunk the salad bowl, and the big man settled some on Lance's plate. They all politely ignored Shiro coughing into his milk.

The Samoan gave his husband a light nudge. “Eat,” he instructed gently, smiling when Lance made grabbing motions at the dressing packet and began tearing up his slices of cheese to sprinkle the bits over the lettuce. “I'm sure they have shredded cheese, babe.”

“I'm good,” Lance said cheerfully, popping a tiny piece into his mouth, “I'm a big boy, I can shred my own cheese.” He wiggled in his seat as Hunk added a bit of dressing to the salad, then popped a large forkful into his mouth with a contented sigh. He seemed genuinely oblivious to the dressing at the corner of his lips, but the faint smirk he gave Shiro's retreating back when he excused himself hastily gave him away.

Keith leaned over to Adam but didn't bother to lower his voice much. “Did you have to bring the salad dressing that looks like jizz?”

“Took me a while to find it,” the blond admitted with a smirk, “it came packaged with catalina.”

“ _Adam!_ ”

“You're too old to whine at me like that, Keith. If you don't want your friend to have sex with Takashi, you should tell him that.” Adam took a drink from his wineglass.

The younger man seethed and looked across the table at Lance, who propped his chin on the back of his fingers and gave him a bland smile. “I'll take pictures,” he promised quietly. At Keith's suspicious stare, he added, “right up until I forget to.”

Keith shot a guilty look at Adam, then looked away and nodded. “Fine,” he grumbled.

Lance hissed quietly what may have been the word “victory!” and popped to his feet, kissing Hunk's cheek before he headed off after Shiro with a spring in his step. He knocked on the bathroom door. “Hey, Shiro? You okay in there?”

“Uh, yeah Lance, sorry. I'll be out in a, in a minute.” Shiro lowered his head and raised the cold water to his face for what felt like the tenth time already.

“Is it okay if I come in?” Shiro heard the Cuban's hand slide down the door to the handle, and closed his eyes against another handful of water—and the mental image of those long fingers sliding over anything and everything he owned.

“Uh, I mean, if you have to use the--” Shiro opened the door, but stepped back when Lance's hand settled on his chest and pushed him back inside. The lock clicked behind him. “Wh--”

Lance tasted like caesar dressing, pepperoni, and guava lip balm. He was just tall enough to easily push his mouth against Shiro's without having to drag him down too far, and his hands plucked at Shiro's shirt as they kissed. It wasn't clear as to when the Cuban had gotten his own off; Shiro was vaguely certain that Lance had been wearing it when he'd opened the door.

The kiss was a whirlwind of tongues, teeth, and fumbling against both the wall and the sink. Shiro finally managed to get Lance up on the sink and leaned back to peel his shirt off over his head. It gave them both just enough time to gasp in a couple of breaths before they returned to frantically exploring each others' mouths. Lance's fingernails left long, burning scratches down the length of Shiro's back, and it pulled a quiet growl from the taller man.

Lance pulled his head back with a whine. “Holy fuck, that's really hot,” he gasped, dragging Shiro's hips closer to him by digging his nails in and making him growl again. He wrapped his legs around Shiro's waist and squeezed, rocking his hips against the bigger man. His nails scraped back up, then combed into the thick black hair and tugged, leaning back to grin upward even as he panted for breath. “We're both still wearing too many clothes.”

Shiro gave him a little grin. “Gonna be a little difficult to get our pants off with your legs like that.”

“I have the utmost faith in you, sir,” Lance giggled, pulling Shiro's head back down for another kiss. He laughed when Shiro picked him up again and turned to pin him to the wall.

In the kitchen, Keith flinched at the thump and lowered his head, but silently passed Adam the popcorn when asked. He lifted his gaze to Hunk when the big man lightly kicked him again. “I don't have to like it just because I agreed to it,” he hissed.

“You don't actually have a stake in it,” the engineer said bluntly, “you're not dating either one of them and neither of them have the potential of getting their feelings hurt from a hookup. Lance hasn't given himself a lot of those just for the sake of them since he started camming, and--”

“And Kashi hasn't gotten laid since he got back,” Adam cut in, giving Hunk a nod and passing him some chips, “I think he's only hooked up with Matt since we broke up, so let him have this. Your friend is beautiful and sweet, and right now Kashi needs a little of that in his--” he thumped Keith on the back when the younger man started choking, “life. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“To be fair, we are talking about the two men banging in your basement bathroom,” Hunk shrugged, frowning at the array of food. “I'm sorry, Adam, I can't eat this junk. I have a delicate constitution? It's just too much grease and carbs.”

“Since we're giving up Kashi and Lance's pretense, did you want to go upstairs? I've got a hash that reheats nicely, it's lean beef. I put almond slivers in it for a little variation.” Adam stood and offered Hunk a smile.

“That sounds amazing,” the big man also stood and held out his hand to Keith, who slid the contents of Shiro and Lance's plates onto his in a pile, picked up his plate, and gamely followed the two others upstairs. He flinched at another loud thump, followed by Lance's high-pitched moan, but managed not to trip on his way up the stairs.

Lance's fingers tightened in Shiro's hair, and he tried not to bang his head against the wall, freeing one hand to grab the bar anchored high above him. “I hope I don't pull this towel rack down on our heads,” he panted, rolling his stomach against the wet heat of Shiro's mouth. His head fell back again as the bigger man's tongue dipped into the shadow of his belly button, hardly even noticing when Shiro got the button of his jeans undone.

Dark eyes rolled upward to look at him over the length of his body. For the span of a breath—an eternity, too fast—Lance felt like his brain was trying to move through wet sand. “It's a pull up bar, actually, so you're good.” He tugged down the Cuban's pants, suppressing a shiver when he saw that Lance wore nothing under them. His mouth fell open again, and he leaned forward to rest the bridge of his nose against the curve of the younger man's abdomen. He pulled Lance's jeans down the rest of the way and shoved them off to the side, pressing open-mouthed, wet kisses down the expanse of that unlined, tanned skin.

Lance's grip flexed on the bar, lifting him slightly upwards in an attempt to get his groin closer to Shiro's mouth. An unmuffled whine escaped from between his teeth as he panted sightlessly up at the ceiling. The back of his head hit the wall again when Shiro dropped his head to lick along his length. One long leg lifted up and hooked over Shiro's shoulder, and Lance's hips shifted again.

Shiro looked up, grinning, and settled a hand around the base of Lance's bobbing cock. “You always throw yourself around like it's your first time, Lance?” He dropped his eyes down to the flesh in his hand, trying to stop the way his jaw flexed hungrily. He was only partially successful, but he appreciated the way Lance's entire body shuddered at the touch of his breath.

“Not always,” the Cuban panted, still staring upwards with his mouth open, “only when I'm _really_ into it.” He rolled his eyes down as his head rocked forward, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth as he grinned down at the Japanese man on the floor. “And I am _so very into it._ ”

The response was Shiro swallowing so hard and suddenly that Lance heard it clearly; the kneeling man's eyes closed for a heartbeat as the flush on his face grew darker. When he opened them again it was was to raise them to Lance's face, giving him a faint, wicked smile as he turned his head to drag his tongue up the side of the hot flesh near his cheek, tracing a vein. His eyelashes fluttered at the Cuban's high whine, but he kept his eyes open and locked with Lance's as he wrapped his lips around the damp head. He moved with the roll of Lance's hips, preventing him from thrusting deeper.

Long, tanned fingers twisted in Shiro's hair again, but Lance's grip was still light and careful. He caught his breath when Shiro's hand closed over his fingers, encouraging them to tighten in the thick black strands. “Ffffuck,” Lance whined again, feeling his nails scrape Shiro's scalp, “I have—oh, _fuck—_ I have absolutely fantasized about this before.”

Shiro pulled back with a slurp and reclaimed his earlier wicked grin. “So have I.” He lowered his head again, wrapping his mouth back around the head of Lance's shaft. He flexed his fingers over Lance's again, asking that they pull harder at his hair. Instead, the grip beneath his relaxed, and Lance's hand twitched to the side as if to shake Shiro's hand off. The bigger man rolled his eyes up again, finding that Lance had dropped his head to smile down at him faintly.

“If you want me to take charge again,” the Cuban told him quietly, brushing his fingers through Shiro's hair with aggravating gentleness, “that's not how I do it.” He turned his hand to trail his fingernails along the line of Shiro's jaw, guiding him closer with the light touch. His eyelids fluttered and his mouth fell open in another quiet whine when the bigger man swallowed more of him as he leaned in. His long fingers curled against the side of Shiro's neck, brushing the short hair there and soothing away the shiver that worked up Shiro's spine at the soft contact.

Shiro moaned, working himself closer until his nose pressed against the coarse curls dusting the unlined skin. He rolled his tongue along Lance's shaft, sighing when it earned him another of those muffled whines. His brain offered him a dozen or so flashes from Lance's vids, the leggy man's boundless teasing confidence, but the delicate touch to his jaw was completely undoing him. The slightly sweet smell of a fruity body butter lingered on Lance's skin; it brought a flood of saliva to his mouth and he had to swallow to prevent himself from drooling.

Lance whined, thrusting shallowly against the pull of Shiro's throat and rewarding him with the light scratch of fingernails on the back of his neck. “I may not have given my fantasy version of you enough credit,” he breathed, leaning his head back against the wall again. His hand shifted to run back up through Shiro's hair, until his thumb settled against the older man's scalp and gently pushed him back. “Don't forget to breathe,” his voice was still soft and gentle.

Rapidly blinking sparks from his eyes because yes in fact, he had forgotten that he needed air at least as much as he needed Lance thrusting into the back of his throat, Shiro gave him a slightly sloppy smile. “Don't want to.” His reward for the cheeky reply was a light tug at his hair and Lance's foot settling back on the floor. He stood as directed, hands sliding up Lance's hips and sides as he did so, and settled his forehead against Lance's hairline.

Lance caught his hands, lacing their fingers and tipping his head to sigh across Shiro's neck. “Breathe,” he whispered, though whether he was talking to Shiro or himself was unclear. He leaned back, pulling Shiro to bodily pin him against the wall, humming. “I have—mn.” He turned his head a little further and tilted his face up; Shiro couldn't refuse the silent request for another kiss. It was slow, lingering on lips and teeth and tongue until Shiro saw stars that had almost nothing to do with lack of oxygen. When they parted again Lance's eyes were closed, and he let out a breathy little sigh that sent a shiver down Shiro's spine. “I have been getting myself totally worked up over this all day and I don't want to embarrass myself.” His admission was followed by a faint, self-depricating smile. “You probably get told this all the time, but I had a poster of you above my bed as a pre-teen.”

Shiro couldn't help the delighted smile that crossed his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. The one that they re-released because they changed the slogan? I had one of the original print set.” He nibbled at Shiro's lip, sighing again. “I have to have gotten off to that poster a million times. At least.”

“Yeah?” Shiro felt the smile on his face widening, and turned them so that Lance was pinning him to the wall. He kissed the Cuban again, then untangled their fingers and gently pushed on his shoulders. “Show me.”

The look of wide-eyed surprise on Lance's face sent a throb of heat through every one of Shiro's nerves, and he found himself catching his breath again as the younger man sank to his knees. Lance stared up at him with lust and wonder, then broke into a sly smile that made Shiro's heart skip a beat. “You're facing the wrong way,” Lance told him quietly, “in the poster, you were facing mostly away.”

Shiro felt himself breaking into a smile and turned, settling his hands on the wall and looking down at the floor over his shoulder. “It was like this, wasn't i--” his voice gave out when Lance came up on his knees and settled his hands on the curves of his ass.

“Close enough,” long-fingered hands slid around to undo the button on Shiro's pants, and Lance pressed his face against the small of Shiro's back, “I would think about this.” His voice was quiet, rough, and Shiro tried to crane to look at him but could only see Lance's ass and legs sticking out behind. He pulled Shiro's pants down, careful of his erection, and nuzzled the smooth skin of his rump. “Fuck, I have thought so much about this...”

“Is that...how you got off to me?” Shiro asked breathlessly, pressing his forehead to the wall. “Thinking about this?”

“Every time,” Lance breathed, turning his head and setting his open mouth against Shiro's flank, “I would think about how you tasted, the sounds you'd make...” He bared his teeth to nip at the warm flesh and smiled when he felt Shiro shudder and heard him gasp. “I had days I didn't even have to touch myself to get off, thinking about you like this.” He spread the muscular curves, turning his head further to settle his open mouth against the exposed tender skin. It pulled another gasp and shudder from the bigger man.

“Lance...” Shiro pressed his forehead harder against the tile, trying to contain the urge to push back against the leggy man's heavy breaths. He was only marginally successful, but the shift of his hips was rewarded with another light nip. “When I invited you to dinner, I swear this isn't what I had in mind.” He managed a faint laugh, broken off when Lance dragged his tongue over the insde of one cheek.

“Yeah, but let's be honest,” Lance spread him a little wider, dragging the tip of his tongue closer to the dark pucker in the center, “this is a _way_ more engaging meal.” He gave up on conversation, putting his mouth to more active use. His tongue pressed against the tight ring of muscle, diving in without much warning. He hummed contentedly when Shiro choked on an attempt at his name.

It didn't take long for Shiro to give up trying to communicate, instead leaning his forehead against the wall and focusing on not letting his legs give out under the relentless onslaught of Lance's mouth. He couldn't catch his breath, could hardly manage enough voice to moan, and shuddered at the feedback of his nails scraping against the tile grout. He shifted his stance, spreading himself wider to the Cuban's ministrations. His head spun, the muscles in his back twitched and spasmed with each flick and thrust of Lance's tongue. He felt like he was melting in every muscle, and tried to turn his attention to the band on his wrist. He barely registered the steadily blinking green light, laying his concerns to rest.

The cool tile was a shock against his cheek when he turned his head further, once again trying to get a look at the kneeling man behind him. A glimpse of Lance's tanned fingers digging into his ass lasted only long enough to cause a cramp in his neck; he turned back away with a small hitch in his breathing.

Lance heard the difference and pulled back; Shiro didn't even try to stop the short whine that flew out of him at the loss. “Shiro?”

His laugh was equally uncontrolled, and breathless. “Lance, you're in my bathroom eating my ass. Pretty sure you can call me by my first name.” He wondered, briefly, at the part of his mind that managed to be cheeky in the current—utterly mind-melting—situation. All he could actively think about was how best to get Lance to return to his previous activity short of shoving him to the bathroom floor and sitting on his face. He decided the idea had some appeal, but had no desire to hurt Lance's neck.

“You made a pain noise,” the entertainer said quietly, settling a tender kiss on a spot left reddened by his clutching hands, “I wanted to check in.” The pause was clearly deliberate, but the quiet, “Takashi,” sent a new jolt of heat up Shiro's spine.

He bit his lip to keep from moaning again. “I'm—I'm good. Kink in my neck.” His hips shifted again, silently demanding that Lance cease the conversation and go back to rimming him already, damnit.

“Not just in your neck,” his amusement was like summer against Shiro's ears, but the soft tease was followed with a promising shift in Lance's posture, “I'll tell you what,” he settled his nose against the base of Shiro's spine again, licking teasingly just above the twitching circle of muscle, “I'll help you work out your kinks right after we work out mine, okay?” He didn't wait for a response, tongue plunging back in and purring in response to Shiro's high, choked agreement.

He needed the pull-up bar to keep from falling. Having Lance's mouth on him was like trying to ride out a hurricane, and he couldn't get his legs to cooperate in holding him steady without something else to ground him. He came close to collapsing at several points, anyway; by the time the beautiful man reached around to stroke his cock, Shiro was more than ready to come. He didn't have time to be embarassed by how few strokes it took until he splashed the wall in transparent white, because Lance was moaning behind him like it was the most gratifying thing he'd ever seen and the added encouragement made him blank out for a second.

He probably would have been more concerned about coming to kneeling on the bathroom floor if he hadn't already grown used to it. Lance seemed equally unconcerned, rifling through the cabinet under the sink. Shiro wet his lips to speak. “Mouthwash is on the righthand side,” he informed the younger man a little hoarsely, “white bottle.”

“Thanks.” Lance retrieved the bottle and poured a small amount into his mouth without letting it touch his lips—a feat Shiro both admired and appreciated—then promptly shunted the liquid off to one side to ask, “you okay?” before thoroughly swishing the rinse around his mouth.

“I,” Shiro blinked a few times, processing what had happened, “I think I came so hard I blacked out for a few seconds,” he admitted, “I haven't done that in...a while.” He eyed the view from his position; Lance's bare ass sticking out as he bent slightly over the sink, one foot slightly lifted at the heel as if the younger man might spin around at any moment. He wet his lips again, mind sluggishly trying to offer ideas on how to reciprocate the feelings Lance had given him. He tapped the band on his wrist, and touched its little blinking green light. “I'm okay.”

Lance had seen the motion in the mirror; he gave Shiro a smile with his eyes, then tipped his head back to gargle. When he bent forward to spit, Shiro surged to his feet—he felt a flush of pride that he only wobbled slightly—and pressed himself up against the smaller man's back. He felt a few drops of his cooling come spread across Lance's back, and delighted in the shiver he felt move up the entertainer's spine. “There's lube in the top drawer,” he said quietly against the curve of Lance's ear, “can you reach it?”

His hands explored Lance's hips and waist while he fumbled to retrieve the lube, reveling in the heat against his palms and the trim muscle that seemed to mold itself perfectly into his grip. He accepted the lube with a small amount of reluctance; as much as he wanted to share the pleasure he'd been given, he wanted to take the entire rest of the night and into the morning to touch, to memorize every inch of Lance's gorgeous body. It was slightly chill on his fingers when he squeezed it onto them; he let it warm on his skin, rubbing his fingers together before slicking them against the cleft of Lance's ass. Pressing his fingers between them sent a shiver down his spine, and he checked his wristband again just in case. The light switched yellow with a muffled beep as his fingertips skimmed over the tight ring hidden from view. Shiro wasn't entirely sure if it was from the rebuilding pressure in his abdomen or the way Lance gasped and thrust his hips backwards.

When he raised his eyes, opened his mouth to warn Lance of his potentially-incoming seizure, he lost his train of thought upon seeing the way the entertainer's mouth hung open and his eyes had glassed over. A quiet, low whine slid from Lance's throat and he moved his feet further apart to give himself better leverage to rock back against Shiro's hand, mindlessly seeking pressure from his fingers. Shiro forgot his warning and kept his eyes locked on the reflection of Lance's face as he carefully pushed two fingers into the waiting heat. He heard the scrape of the younger man's nails against the underside of the sinktop, right before the half-keened, “oh _fuck_ ,” reached his ears. He kept the insertion slow but steady, gripping Lance's hip with the other to prevent him from throwing himself back too hard in his enthusiasm.

He leaned in to settle his cheek behind Lance's ear and manage to breathe a reverant whisper of his name. He smiled when the dazed blue eyes shifted in the reflection to lock with his own, watching the way they slowly came into focus over the growing, crooked smile. He watched Lance's face as he began to move his fingers, feeling as though he were regaining energy with each flutter of eyelids and tremble of thin lips. He pulled the skinny man back against him, kissing Lance's temple as he rest his head back on Shiro's shoulder to enjoy his attentions. He pressed in deeper, then started spreading his fingers, heartbeat pounding in his head with each lewd sound escaping from between them. A third finger joined the other two; he caught Lance's breathy shriek at the corner of his mouth with his lips.

The kiss was slow, dragging with every slide of Shiro's fingers, full of heat and wet and the mindless noises escaping Lance's mouth. Shiro felt like he was in the middle of a hurricane again; drowning in every part of Lance he could reach and barely holding on to any thought that didn't simply demand he increase the younger man's pleasure. He pressed his hips forward, wanting contact between his re-emerging erection and the sleek curve of Lance's flank, feeling his breathing hitch at the quiet whisper of 'Takashi' that slid from the younger man's mouth.

Overcome by the anticipatory trembling in his muscles, Shiro buried is face in Lance's shoulder and tried to catch his breath. He curled his fingers and thrust them forward again, rewarded by a choked curse that slid into a moan. He'd heard that sound so many times in Lance's videos that he didn't need to ask what had prompted it; he pulled his fingers back only slightly and rubbed gently. Lance's half-formed pleas and swearing brought him purpose again, and he carefully took half a step back to realign their bodies. He pulled his fingers back and spread them wide, settling the head of his shaft between them and pushing forward in the same motion that he pulled his fingers out. He felt his eyes try to roll back at the remarkably tight sensation, but stopped everything the instant he heard Lance's head hit the mirror.

There didn't appear to be any blood, and in fact the leggy man whined and squirmed beneath him when he remained unmoving. “Lance?” He managed, still trying to convince his lungs that they knew how to breathe on their own.

“'M okay,” Lance panted, arms shaking as they sort of prevented him from collapsing entirely underneath the feeling—the very _idea—_ of having Shiro inside of him, “forgot which way was up.” He turned his head on the mirror slightly, just enough for Shiro to see the utterly delighted crooked grin that flashed across his face. “I feel...uh. Out of order.” He flexed his entire body, straightening himself up to lean back against Shiro's shoulder again. His grin didn't change, despite the small sound he made at the shift in angle. “Not a bad thing.”

“Okay,” Shiro ducked his head to kiss him again briefly, then wrapped one arm around his waist and settled the other hand on the mirror. Now, if Lance fell forward, he'd hit the marginally-softer surface of Shiro's fingers, at least. “How does next week sound?” He asked quietly against the curve of Lance's ear.

The Cuban's laugh was almost enough reward for the half-formed joke. “Like you should have been fucking me there five minutes ago,” was the breathy reply. He scrambled to catch himself on the sink top again as Shiro unhesitatingly began to comply, breath leaving him in whines and half-formed whimpers of the bigger man's name. Each thrust left him leaning forward a little more, until he finally felt his forehead crash against the hand on the mirror and gave into it, the faint discomfort nothing in comparison to the thick shaft grinding into all the best places inside of him.

He embraced the faint feeling of helplessness, surrendering to Shiro's pace and the heavy rasp of his breath across his sweaty shoulders. His world narrowed to the bony curve of Shiro's knuckle against his forehead, the arm wrapped around his waist, the heat thrusting into him, and the increasingly desperate attempts at his name. He felt the need and pressure building up in him, opened his mouth to try to warn the other man, only for Shiro to press his open mouth against the back of his neck in a silent cry and grip the side of his hip to slam him backwards. His hips stayed clutched flush against Shiro's as the former rescue pilot released a searing hot load of come into him.

It was too much for Lance. The thought, the idea, the _reality_ of Captain Takashi Shirogane actually coming in him threw him over the edge with little regard to how the two of them were positioned; he felt his legs give out after the first heavy wave of his orgasm crashed over his mind, felt Shiro fumble at suddenly holding all of his weight, and only managed to regain enough muscle control to prevent his head from hitting the tile as they careened floorward.

They laid there for a few seconds, winded by both the sex and the fall, and Lance realized that Shiro's muscles were irregularly twitching around him. “Shiro?!” He heard the faint, insistant beeping of the wristband, and the thunder of racing feet on the stairs, and managed to pull Shiro's shirt half over his hip before the bathroom door all but flew open.

Adam helped him cover Shiro's groin with the shirt, then pulled the hanging towel down from the rack and rolled it to pillow his head. “It's okay,” he assured Lance calmly, “he has these sometimes. His stats get texted to my phone when his monitor beeps—this won't be a bad one, don't worry.” He stroked along the back of Shiro's neck and shoulders, showed Lance where to press and where to pet on his scalp to help re-establish normal nerve communication. “Tried to do a twofer?”

“I—he got off twice, yeah, I didn't realize that--” Lance tried to quell the rising panic in his chest, but some of it escaped from his lips.

“It's all right,” Adam interrupted, gently but firmly, “probably he got so focused on tonight that he didn't eat enough today. He forgets that he really can't do that any more. Normally, a twofer would be fine, but low blood sugar on top of his standing issues doesn't agree with him. Keith,” he called out through the open bathroom door, “bring a soda, not water.” He set his phone down by Shiro's head and dug through the closet for another thick towel. He passed the towel to Lance, who was staring, transfixed, at the timer ticking away the second on the phone screen. “Sit on that,” the blond commanded softly, smiling again when Lance thoughtlessly obeyed, “no reason to drip everywhere just because you apparently hate condoms.”

Pulled in part from his shock by the soft joke, Lance blinked up at him. “They really aren't necessary now that sexually transmitted infections have been eradicated,” he defended in a half-mumble, feeling himself steady in anticipation of the familiar argument, “it isn't like I'm going to get pregnant with butt babies.” Nonetheless, he did settle the folded towel beneath him, partially grateful for the reprieve from the cold tile.

The hard snort from the bathroom door announced Keith's arrival, and he carefully stepped over Shiro to sit next to Lance with a soda in one hand. “You'd probably film the birth,” he teased, worried purple eyes locked on Shiro's face.

“Of me having Takashi Shirogane's butt babies? You're damn right, that's prime time right there.” Lance spared him a quick sideways glance, then laced their fingers together on the tile. The sudden clutch of Keith's grip reassured him that he was not, in fact, the only person freaking out.

“I'd probably get in the way of the money shot,” Shiro said hoarsely, blinking owlishly up at Adam as the blond wiped down his face. “How long?”

“About thirty seconds,” Adam informed him mildly, “no bloody lips, you didn't bite Lance, I already texted Cody since you didn't vomit. How's your tongue?”

“No blood,” Shiro mumbled woodenly, then started partly upright. “Lance?”

“Here,” Lance reached out with his free hand to touch Shiro's shoulder, “I'm okay. You didn't land on me or anything.” He managed to keep most of the hysteria out of his voice, and felt absurdly proud of that fact. “You should probably. Be careful sitting up, yeah?”

“Sorry,” Shiro rasped, slouching back against Adam as the blond moved behind him, “right. Yeah. Sorry.”

Keith freed his hand from Lance's to open the soda and hand it to Adam, who now fully supported Shiro's weight. “We can, uh. Get Lance cleaned up and dressed in one of the other bathrooms, so you don't feel crowded,” he told Shiro quietly, “you can do the...the whole conversation later. Bathroom's way too small for four people.” He stepped carefully over Shiro again and helped steady Lance while he did the same, holding the towel in place so he didn't drip on the prone man.

Adam silently passed Lance's pants to Keith as the brunette ushered his friend from the room, then sighed and pet Shiro's hair. “What's the rule, 'Kashi?” He asked, quietly enough that the younger men couldn't hear.

“Warn people about the potential for seizures before the pants come off,” the response was sighed, reluctant but readily admitting to having done things out of order. “Is he going to be okay?” He flinched at the sudden, sharp sob from the hall, and the sounds of Keith ushering Lance upstairs.

“You scared him,” the blond told him, still soft and matter-of-fact, “Keith and Hunk will handle it, but you owe him a long talk.” He turned his head toward the open doorway for a moment, then shook his head. “He thought, just for a second, that he'd killed you. You're lucky our son has gotten pretty good at picking people up after this shit.”

“He's not young enough to be our son,” Shiro argued, some of the strength coming back to his voice in irritation, “he's twenty-two and I'm twenty-nine. You're twenty-seven.” He took the soda when it was offered, downing half of it before pausing to stifle a belch. “He's the...the baby brother we never quite adopted. Whose ancestors came from Korea, and is therefore not at all related to either one of us, because,” he took another large swallow of soda and pushed himself up, close to Adam's face, “I am Japanese and you are mostly Hopi.”

“Would you still argue this with me if he hadn't grown up pretty?” Adam didn't lean away when Shiro got close, but let the momentum of the other man pushing away from him put space between them. He had the grace to look away, but didn't walk his question back or apologize for its implications.

“Get out,” Shiro said bitterly, leaning on the toilet instead, “you've done your duty and made sure I didn't choke to death on my own tongue. Now get out.”

Adam got up and left, gathering up Lance and Hunk's coats before heading upstairs. “Keith, make sure he gets some half-decent food in him before he lies down, please.” He patted the slender man on the shoulder as he passed, then sat on the coffee table in front of where Lance shook in Hunk's arms. “He's okay,” he reassured the long-legged man gently, “it was very minor, it's a symptom of his condition, and he meant to warn you before things got too far, but got distracted. He's very sorry that he scared you.”

“I'm just glad he's all right,” Lance gave him a slightly twitchy smile, subdued, “I guess I should have let him eat a little more before I threw myself at him, huh?”

Adam patted his leg. “You are not in any way at fault,” he informed Lance firmly, “his reckless behavior despite his limitations was a part of why I broke up with him. This is entirely par for the course, I promise. Hunk packed up some hash for you—Keith ate everything off your plate while you were busy—and I think you might feel better after a good meal and a nice long bath at home. No one minds,” he interrupted the obvious thought on the Cuban's face, “and we can all try dinner together again another night, okay?”

“Okay,” he accepted the kiss on his hair from his husband and the hand up from Adam with the same little smile, then gave Adam a quick hug. “Tell him I promise not to say anything about his episode on the feed, okay?”

“I will. I'm sure he'll appreciate it.” Adam saw his guests bundled up with their food and waited in the driveway until they pulled away. If either Hunk or Lance noticed anything strange about the way the headlights reflected off his eyes, their minds were too preoccpied to mention it.

 


End file.
